Behind Every Great Man
by Miluielwen
Summary: In the midst of a war and the unification of a country, a woman struggles between the love for her brother, the loyalty to her land and the Goddess she has sworn to serve. ON HOLD  INDEFINITELY   SORRY!
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: The story of King Arthur as portrayed in the 2004 Jerry Bruckheimer movie does not belong to me. I don't believe anyone can reasonably take credit for owning the myth, though. **

**All right, here we go, my first multi-chapter fanfiction that has some semblance of a plot. Big, scary, step to be taking, but thanks to a very persistent plotbunny and some encouragement from the lovely Homeric, I'll give it a shot. ) I unfortunately can't promise to update regularly – I'm a busy girl in real life, so new chapters might be sporadic. Nevertheless, I hope you'll like it enough to continue reading!**

**Music: Lee Holdridge – Finale (Mists of Avalon soundtrack)**

_Prologue_

I have been called many things in the long years of my life: sister, lover, priestess, wise-woman, wife, mother. Each name and title has brought its own sorrows, its own joys. It all seems so long ago now as I walk up the familiar steps of Avalon's processional road.

This feeling of archaism, of living in an age one no longer belongs to, has been with me ever since I said my farewells to the children of Camelot. In all truth it is hardly appropriate any more to call them such: they are all adults now, some of them even having children of their own. But, in my eyes, they will always remain the young ones tugging at my skirts.

Despite all their years, many were still too young to understand why I had to leave. They asked me why I would not remain with them, my family, in the beautiful citadel we call our home. I explained to them I needed to see Avalon one last time before I died. _Don't talk like that, _they said. _You'll come back, won't you? _

I know in my heart that I will not. I am the only one who remains of my time; our work is done. A distant voice reminds me that we are only players in an ever-changing world, and I smile at the thought. We have played well, then. The children we raised have now taken over our duties as certain as the sun rises to replace the moon. They are the future, and one we can be proud of.

And so I heave myself up the steps, the wind toying with my veil as I remember a time when I would run all the way without breaking a sweat, laughing at my companion… _I believe you spend too much time riding horses…_

There will, without a doubt, come a time when I shall be called many more things, when centuries have passed and the tale will have changed so much only aspects of the truth shall remain. Minstrels will sing of the brave and bold Arthur, the king who was and king who shall be; but what will be said of his family, and the people he loved? Only time will tell.

I can feel them surround me as I glance over the final steps and behold the Circle in all its sunlit splendour. Ghosts of touches, whispers of well-known voices and glimpses of dearly beloved faces all aid me on my final ascension. It even seems the wind carries a song today… _We will go home, we will go home…_

What time will make of our story remains to be seen, but this, at least, is my tale: the tale of Niniane of Avalon, half-sister of Arthur the Once-and-Future-King, wife of a Knight of Sarmatia; but above all, the Lady of the Lake and the High Priestess of the Goddess on earth. It is a tale of hardship and of loss; a tale of war and peace; but above all, a tale of love in its many forms, and how that love proved strong enough to forge a kingdom.

And as I lay down my weary body at last on the green grass of the Tor, I remember it all.

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A/N: Reviews utterly make my day. No, really, they do.


	2. All beginnings are small

**DISCLAIMER: The story of King Arthur as portrayed in the 2004 Jerry Bruckheimer movie does not belong to me. I don't believe anyone can reasonably take credit for owning the myth, though.**

**Well, here it is then, the first chapter! I apologise that it took so long, but I did warn you – real life is rather busy, and I'm not really a regular updater to begin with. **

**Anyways, without much further ado, I present to you: the first chapter of Behind Every Great Man! (Which, by the way, is un-beta'd and I'm feeling kinda eh about. Might just because I'm a horrible perfectionist, though. )**

**Music: William Ross – Main Title/Treegap (Tuck Everlasting Soundtrack)**

447 AD (20 years before the Battle of Badon Hill)

A very long time ago in a country not so very far away, a girl stood on the grassy slope of Badon Hill, wrinkling her toes in the moist ground underneath her feet.

It was that time of day when mist still hung over the plains, slowly disappearing as the sun rose. The warmth of it was soothing on her back and its light cast long shadows from behind the trees. From over the hills to the west a soft breeze carried over the plains, toying with her hair. She smiled and began to whistle, letting the wind carry the melody eastwards. It was, all in all, a moment of unusual tranquility.

For such peace and quiet was, even at her young age, a rare thing. The Roman fort she lived in was hardly ever silent, and there was always something or the other for her to do. This morning, however, her brother and she had managed to sneak out of the stone walls before their nurse had come to find them for their morning lessons.

And so she stood, her boots in her hand and the dew soaked grass cool under her bare feet, enjoying the little sights and sounds of the waking world around her. She ended the tune she'd been whistling on a long low note and averted her eyes towards the many small mounds that marked the knights' cemetery.

It was a rather sad sight, she decided, blinking languidly. When her eyes opened, it seemed as if there were six shapes on horses among the graves, raising their weapons in a cry of battle. She shook her head, squinting, and the apparitions were gone as suddenly as they had appeared.

The sight – dream, whatever it was - troubled her deeply. They had become more frequent as of late, and she had no idea whom to talk to about it. Surely the priests would condemn her as a witch, like they had done with that poor woman the other day. After all, what else could these things be but visions send by the Devil himself to seduce her into sin?

She shuddered, but did not cross herself, as the fort's preacher would have undoubtedly wanted her to. Could these apparitions truly be a thing of evil? They were never much more than vague flashes of objects, of people that she most often did not even know. That would not really hurt anyone, would it?

Lost in her thoughts as she was, she did not hear her brother sneak up to her from behind. As a result, she jumped sky-high and shrieked as he suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders. He laughed, dodging as she swatted at him. "Last one down is a Woad!" he yelled, setting off down the hill.

For a moment, she remained unmoving, staring at the tall boy's retreating back. Then, with an indignant "Ha!" she bolted down the hill after him, pulling up her skirts to prevent herself from tripping over them.

Despite his head start, she was soon catching up with her brother, seeing her chance as he tripped on a rabbit hole. Side stepping him as he stumbled, she threw herself down the last few yards, earning the victory.

By the time he made it to the foot of the hill, she was watching him amusedly. "I think you spend too much time riding horses, Arthur." She grinned, pulling on her boots as he leaned forward, his hands on his knees. "So do you," he managed to gasp in between panting, "And yet you run like any Greek athlete!"

Her nose wrinkled along with her forehead, feigning distaste. "A Greek?" she pouted dramatically, "Is my nose really that big?"

Arthur smiled, straightening up. Taking her small chin in his hand, he observed her childish face thoughtfully, turning her head this way and that as if he were examining a new horse. He fondly noted the freckles on her high cheekbones, the flush of her cheeks and the strands of dark golden hair that had come loose from her braid. It had a tendency of doing that, something that irritated her to no end.

Tugging the strand playfully, he looked at her eyes and was for a moment struck by them. Not just because they were the exact grey-green shade he and his mother shared with her, but because there was a depth and brilliance to them that gave them an ethereal quality. There was something in those eyes that spoke of future greatness; something he had never seen reflected in his own.

(The one time he had mentioned it to her, she had looked at him intensely, her head cocked sideward, and said that she could see the exact same thing in his eyes. Stubborn and humble as he was, he had refused to believe her.)

She giggled as he tapped her nose, and his smile widened. "No, sister," he told her, "Your nose is as delicate as Cleopatra's own." The cheerful expression on his face formed into a frown as his gaze strayed downwards. "But I do wish you wouldn't tuck up your skirts so high. It's inappropriate."

With an exasperated sigh, she let her skirts fall down again to cover all of her legs. "Oh, _please_. It don't see quite how your legs are any different than mine, and yet you and all the other boys can show them off without a fuss." Straightening the fabric of her dress without needing to, she muttered to herself in annoyance. "Besides, the Woad women run around half naked all the time, and no one bats an eye –"

"Who told you that?" her brother said sharply, making her cringe and stare at the ground uncomfortably. She hated it when he was cross with her. "The knights," she admitted quietly, shuffling her feet.

"I'll have to talk to them."

Her head snapped up. The older boy's face was set in grim determination, and she shook her head tiredly. "No, Arthur, please don't! They didn't mean for me to hear it. I was –" she swallowed, trying to find a word that would not make it sound quite so bad as the alternative, but failing miserably.

"Eavesdropping?" The rare smile she cherished so much was slowly creeping back onto his face, and she let out a quiet breath of relief. Arthur slung an arm around her shoulders and began to lead her back towards the fort. "We shouldn't be fighting, should we?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, we shouldn't. It's been such a lovely morning." When her brother was halfway through his answer, she suddenly froze and motioned for him to be silent. After a moment or two, she looked at him oddly. "Do you hear hoof beats?"

"No-"

Right at that moment, a cry went up from the walls towering over them.

"Knights!"

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A/N: You know the drill: you press the button, leave an honest review, and I'm the happiest person in the world for a while!


	3. Home at Hadrian's Wall

**DISCLAIMER: The story of King Arthur as portrayed in the 2004 Jerry Bruckheimer movie does not belong to me. I don't believe anyone can reasonably take credit for owning the myth, though.**

**A really big thank you to all my lovely reviewers – your kind words were very much appreciated and made me inanely happy! **

**Here, then, is the second chapter of "Behind every great man". Consider it my Christmas gift to you! I do hope you will like it. :)**

**Just to make sure you guys aren't confused – Arthur is the boy from the previous chapter; he is about 13. The girl is his sister, who is approximately 6 years younger and about whom more will be revealed in this chapter.  
Also, please know that I haven't abandoned my other story, "Please remember me". I have a draft for the 3rd chapter lying around that I keep on rewriting and editing, but so far it hasn't ever been good enough to published. Someday it will be, but not at this moment in time.**

**Music: Anne Dudley – A different land (Tristan + Isolde OST)**

447 AD (20 years before the Battle of Badon Hill)

"Lucia, come _on_!"

Arthur's insistent tugging on her hand snapped the girl out of her reverie and, turning her gaze away from the dirt road along the Wall, she followed him as he hurried towards the gates. No riders were in sight yet from where she had been standing, but it was clear that the guards on the parapets _had_ seen them approaching.

The whole fort was in an uproar by the time the two children made it to the gates. People were hurrying about, clearing the way for the horses and moving towards the courtyard to greet the knights. Despite all the excited chatter and bustle, a sense of apprehension was palpable in the air. How many of the knights would return this time, and what news would the survivors bring of the latest Woad activity? Would it still be safe to travel?

Several of the fort's inhabitants waved or smiled at the siblings as they ran past, but Arthur gave Lucia no opportunity to greet them in return. He pulled her along, realising all too well that this might be their only to chance to escape punishment for their early morning adventure. For a while, he thought they would actually make it, too – they were almost there – just a bit further…

His hopes vanished quickly as they all but literally ran into the their housekeeper.

Aelia was a stout middle-aged woman with a stern face that belied her kind heart. She had served the Artorii family for as long as the two children could remember, never changing, always donning the same practical braided hair and apron over her dress. It was often remarked that she was the single steady factor in the unpredictable life of the Artorii household.

As the two siblings skidded to a halt before her, the woman looked down on them in the disconcerting manner she was known and feared for. "There you are, you little rascals!" she exclaimed, balancing a basket with warm towels against her waist, "Where have you two been?"

'The look' never failed to terrify lazy servants and wayward children, and today was no exception: the youngest members of the Artorii family nearly withered under her stare. Arthur flinched. Lucia gulped and shrunk behind her brother, who in turn shot her a look over his shoulder but didn't do anything about it. Taking a breath, the boy began to stammer an explanation. "I- we, well, we wanted to – it was such a beautiful morning, you see – and er –"

Aelia fought back a smile. Stern though she might seem, she never could stay angry with these youngsters for very long. They were good children, really, despite the occasional mischief. She had always had a bit of a weak spot for them, but her fondness of the Commander's offspring had only increased when she had found them huddled together after their father's death. Besides, punishment wouldn't do anyone any good. There was no doubt in her mind that Arthur would first take all the blame, only to have Lucia protest and insist on sharing it. She could already see the guilt shining in their identical eyes. No, she decided, punishment was not an option.

"All right, then," she smiled, "How would you like to help me hand out the towels to the knights?"

A broad grin spread over Lucia's face and she jumped up from behind her brother in an instant, bouncing up and down like the child that she was. "Oh, Aelia, can we? Can we?" Laughing warmly, the woman lowered the basket she was carrying so the girl could take one of the handles and help her carry it.

Arthur meanwhile looked mostly relieved, but there was just a hint of the same eagerness on his still youthful face, if for different reasons. He was pleased he would be able to hear what the knights would have to say. One day, after all, he would follow in his father's footsteps and lead men of his own. Why not start learning now?

The trio made their way to the square where the knights would soon arrive. Pushing through the assembled crowd, they found their regular spot quickly and just in time to see the horses and their riders thunder into the enclosure. At the very second the first knight entered the courtyard, Aelia started a mental head count. One, three, five, six – her heart sank. Her breath caught. One of them was missing.

Standing to the woman's side, Lucia almost physically felt her mood change. The girl's smile faded. Usually, this meant only one thing: another of the men had not returned home. Even at her young age, she was no stranger to death and grief, but losing another of the knights never got any easier. Shoulders slumped, her eyes sought the crowd for one horse in particular as she hoped with all her being the familiar animal would not be bearing a corpse.

"Cai!"

From where he sat on his horse, an injured but very much alive boy in his late teens looked down to see Lucia running towards him, the basket she was supposed to be guarding long since forgotten. Swinging his leg over his gelding's back, he dismounted carefully, his feet thumping on the ground and sending up small clouds of dust. He winced as small arms were forcibly thrown around him.

"Hello, Lucia." He greeted, ruffling her hair fondly, his other hand still holding on to his horse's reins. For the girl's sake, he forced gaiety into his voice. "Missed me, have you?"

But he underestimated her sensibility to the situation. "Missed you!" she exclaimed, stepping back from his embrace. "You were gone for the better part of a moon cycle, and no word was ever send –" Cai could not help but think Lucia would one day make a fearsome wife, always scolding her husband for making her worry, "—and I was scared for you." He could see, now, that her eyes were moist with tears, and he swiftly gathered her into his arms again.

"Don't cry, Scout," he soothed, "I'm all right, and so is my da. See?" he moved back, making a comical sort of turn so she could see no serious harm had been done to him, and smiled down at her with a reassurance he didn't really feel himself. "Just a few scratches."

She sniffed, wiping at her eyes but smiling just a little nonetheless. "That's my girl!" he praised, offering his hand for her to take, "Now, come on, I'd better get Fulvus back to the stables."

Latching on to his hand instantly, she followed him to the building that housed the horses of the fort. As they walked, the square slowly emptied, the onlookers somberly shuffling back to their daily business. Nearby the body of the fallen knight was being lowered onto a stretcher by his comrades and taken away to be prepared for burial.

It was no surprise to the youngest Artorii to see her brother standing a bit further off, listening intently to what the commander had to say. Ectorius was looking grimmer than ever as he talked to his wife, and Aelia had that expression of forced calm on her face that Lucia knew did not bode well. The girl frowned, unsettled by what she saw but unable to pinpoint the problem exactly. A knight's passing would cause sorrow, certainly, but there was something else going on that she couldn't quite comprehend.

She was startled out of her reverie as Cai stopped moving and handed his horse over to a stablehand. "Take good care of him," he was saying, patting the animal's neck before releasing the reins completely. As Fulvus was led into the stable, one of the other knights came out, clapping his younger colleague on the shoulder. Lucia thought his name was Degrevant; he was one of the older knights in the band of Sarmatians assigned to her late father. "Best get that cut taken care of, young Caius," he said, nodding curtly before turning away and moving towards the tavern.

Cai sighed. "Come on, then," he said to the girl still holding on to his hand, "Let's see is my ma has made us honeycakes again." They ambled over to the avidly talking trio, waiting a few moments before making their presence known. Aelia immediately engulfed her son in a hug, throwing her carefully kept composure to the wind if only for a little while. She fussed over him like any mother would while he, as sons are wont to do, complained and ensured her he was fine. "Oh, Cai," Aelia breathed, "Your father was telling me about the ambush, and how he thinks the Woads might attack the fort –"

"Do you really think they will, sir?" Arthur piped up, anxious to hear more, "Would they really be so bold?" Ectorius' heavy brows furrowed as he contemplated the notion. It _would_ be an incredibly daring move on their part, there was no doubt about that, but with their recent proactive ventures and seemingly rekindled passion to expel the Romans once and for all… it was most definitely a possibility – if not a likelihood - at this point.

"I'm not sure," he said, choosing his words carefully, "They have been very active lately, and with your mother's party tonight –" he shook his head. Of all times to have numerous important Romans visiting the fort, this had to be the worst. "I have to talk to the steward. No, Artorius, you cannot come, and that's final." He said, adequately silencing the boy before he even had the opportunity to voice his desire to come along. The soldier pressed a kiss to his wife's lips, offered his son and protegee a smile and ruffled Lucia's already messy hair before turning on his heel and setting off towards the steward's office.

The four he left behind soon went back to the estate – which was really more of a villa situated inside the fort – of the Artorii family. The soldiers guarding the entrance threw upon the ornate doors upon their arrival, revealing a slender, beautiful woman with the same startling eyes as Arthur and Lucia. She was looking over a list of some kind when the small party entered, but soon looked up at them and went to embrace the youngest two.

"My little ones," she smiled, "I am glad you're home."

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Merry Christmas & all the best for 2008! Please leave a review )


	4. Dark side of the moon

**DISCLAIMER: The story of King Arthur as portrayed in the 2004 Jerry Bruckheimer movie does not belong to me. I don't believe anyone can reasonably take credit for owning the myth, though.**

**Ow, wow, I cannot believe how much I have neglected this story. Senior year has been beyond insane. The good news is that I will head off to the UK in a month or so to start university – and not just any place in the UK, but to the lovely city of York. I am, as I am sure you can imagine, very excited indeed.**

**Thank you once again to everyone who reviewed, favored and otherwise encouraged me to write. This one's for you.**

**The title of this chapter is taken from a Mark Twain quote: "Everyone is like a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody."**

**Music: Jeff Beal – Octavian & Octavia's Themes (HBO's Rome Soundtrack)**

447 AD (20 years before the Battle of Badon Hill)

Igerna of the Artorii was, to most that saw and, indeed, to most that knew her, the very epitome of a virtuous Roman wife. Soft-spoken and humble, she managed her household with an easy grace that many praised and envied. She was that type of lady that mothers encouraged their daughters to be like when they grew up; the type of mistress the servants adored and revered.

But there was more to Igerna than met the eye. Few noticed the odd, out of place calluses on her hands nor the decidedly un-Christian items of worship she kept hidden under her bed. Her pleasant voice hid the power of her words and dresses, veils and ribbons could go a long way in disguising marks on one's body.

In fact, the number of people who knew of the late Commander's wife's true origins were less than half a dozen, and this was a secret that would never be anything other than well kept.

Even her own offspring knew little about the woman. She was the loving but ever-distant mother who had mourned her husband so deeply that for a while, her children had been all but left to themselves. When she did favour them with her attention, however, she was kind to them and would listen to their stories most of the time.

It was the way it had always been and neither Arthur nor Lucia had ever thought it to be anything else.

They stepped into her arms easily, allowing the affectionate gesture and smiling obediently – though not without some genuine pleasure – as the lady kneeled down before them.

"Now," she said, "The clergymen say you have both been very good in your lessons."

The siblings nodded, sensing that this was going in a direction that was decidedly positive for them – especially considering their mother seemed to be unaware of their early morning adventure.

"As a reward, you shall both be allowed to stay up a little longer tonight. We are to entertain some very important guests, you know."

Arthur beamed, excited at the notion of being able to mingle with the grown ups, and such distinguished ones at that! He would have to talk to the Steward and learn what he could, so he could properly address and converse with them; first impressions, as his father had always reminded him, were vital.

Lucia, meanwhile, did not seem to be quite certain if she should be excited or annoyed. Being allowed to stay up late was cause for excitement, no doubt, but the kind of 'important guests' her mother invited were usually so very tedious and they often spoke so verily angrily about a lot of people.

Instead of settling her mind on the issue, she changed the topic.

"Has Morgana written?"

Young though she was, she did not miss the slight darkening of her mother's countenance at the mention of her sister's name. The eldest of Igerna's children, Morgana had been send to a monastery before either Arthur or Lucia had been born. The reasons for her being sent away were another thing the younger siblings had learned not to question.

From where she stood near the still-open door, Aelia answered the young girl's question when her mother did not. "There have been no letters recently, Lucia. I'm sure Morgana is very busy." She smiled reassuringly at the sight of her charge's disappointment before turning an unreadable gaze onto her mistress.

"My lady, if I may take your leave? There are many things that still need to be prepared for tonight."

Igerna looked up, an equally illegible expression on her face, and nodded slowly. "Yes, no doubt. You may go." And with a swish of Aelia's skirt and a creak of the door when Cai closed it, the two were gone, the awkward moment passing as suddenly as it had come.

"Well, children," Igerna said airily, rising and dusting of the folds of her already immaculate gown, "I suppose you had best attend to your studies. I want you both to wear your holiday robes tonight, understood?"

"Yes, mama," the two intoned, straightening their backs unconsciously. A nod, a faint smile and a whispered "Good." was all the farewell they got before Igerna, too, swept out of the room, leaving the siblings alone in the vast, column encircled hallway.

After a moment of silence, Lucia pinched Artorius, causing him to jump. "Ow!" he exclaimed, "Don't do that!" She merely grinned at him, innocence itself with just a hint of mischief lurking at the corners of her mouth. As she expected, his irritation faded within seconds and he slung his arm around her.

"Come on. Let's go see if Cook has something for us before we have to suffer through Oscitans' lectures again."

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you remember the times when we used to hide behind the statues to see the guests arrive?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, do you think mama will mind terribly if we do so again? That way at least we can escape if the guests turn out to be dreadfully boring."

"Lucia!" Arthur laughed, looking at her in mild surprise, "They cannot be that bad."

She nodded vigorously, quite convinced that they would be. Surely Arthur would realize that! "Of course! Don't you remember what they're like? All they talk about is God's will this, God's will that, and wine and fighting and war…"

Unexpectedly, Arthur's arm slid off her shoulders and his gaze became distant. Lucia was instantly concerned – her brother falling into such a somber state was never a good thing in her book. "Arthur?"

He looked at her strangely. "Do you think me boring, sister, when I speak of God and war? Or when Ectorius does, or Cai?"

"No, it's just – I – Arthur, you're not nearly half as bad as they are!"

The elder boy shook his head. "No, I'm not. Not yet, anyway."

Lucia crossed her arms with all the indignation she could muster. "And you never will be! I will tickle you ceaselessly before you do, so help me God." To her relief, Arthur's eyes crinkled into a smile and he pinched her side.

"Ow!"

"Not if I get to you first!" he challenged, setting off at a run before she could swat him in return. Laughing, she set off after him, all thoughts of war and growing up forgotten.

For now.

-o-o-o-o-o-

That evening, Lucia found herself in her room, brushing her hair so one of the maid's could put ribbons in it later. She had already washed herself and put on her most precious gown, a beautiful if stuffy thing that had been a gift from her father just before he died. It was starting to become to short in various places, but it would do for tonight.

Putting down the comb, she ambled over to the window looking out over the courtyard. It was already getting dark and some of the fires and torches had already been lit. Lucia smiled to herself; the visitors that were currently riding towards her home would see the fort at its loveliest.

Utterly at ease, her eyes became unfocused and her mind wandered aimlessly… until it was abruptly, utterly dark and the fires were no longer contained.

Burning! The fort was burning, the villagers fleeing in fright, some throwing water over their thatched roofs, others crying out as they sought for a way out but could not find one – they were trapped – there were men with swords, the naked steel of them shining in the light of the stars she loved so much, silver stained with red –

As the door to her room opened with a bang, Lucia stumbled back from the window and screamed.

--

Please read and review!


	5. Everything changes

**DISCLAIMER: The story of King Arthur as portrayed in the 2004 Jerry Bruckheimer movie does not belong to me. I don't believe anyone can reasonably take credit for owning the myth, though.**

**Another chapter! I am on a veritable roll, thanks to the support of my sister and friend. This one is for them -- thanks for the bouncing, you two. Sis, the squeak scenario will be added at some point in the future, I promise! :)**

**To all of you readers: I know it's almost redundant and mildly pathetic to ask, but please, review. It keeps me going and gives me much-needed feedback. I hope you all enjoy this chapter -- the story takes a bit of a different turn from here onwards.**

**Music: Hans Zimmer - Beneath Alrischa & Malleus Malificarum (The Da Vince Code Soundtrack)**

447 AD (20 years before the Battle of Badon Hill)

The door swung open and for a few long seconds, Lucia could only stare at the figure that had appeared in the door. Tall and dark, he loomed over her, his outline clear against the light streaming in from the hallway, one leg dragging slightly behind him when he moved forward --

She blinked, and suddenly she realized she was in fact looking at the familiar figure of Cai, not the nightmarish vision of before. Bolting forward, she was about to throw herself into his arms when she caught the look of frightened urgency in his eyes and froze in place; in all the years she had known him, he had never looked so unsettled. He held his sword in his right hand, the naked blade glistering disturbingly as he held out his other hand to her. "Lucia," he said, and now she _knew_ something was wrong, for he never called her that, "You have to come with me. Quickly!" Too scared to argue but too stunned to move, she remained statuary, staring at him fearfully until he grabbed her hand as he had so often and began to drag her along with him. "Come on, Scout!"

Down the corridor they went, towards the courtyard, and Lucia finally found her voice again as she struggled to keep up with the elder boy's long strides. "Cai, wait! What's going on?" He didn't answer, urging her along past the courtyard and towards one of the backdoors. The screams she had heard before were clearer now, and everywhere she looked she could see people running, some carrying swords, others carrying buckets of water. The air seemed thicker somehow and she could smell smoke and a whole lot of other things she could not place. "Cai, please!" she begged, "I'm scared!" That caught his attention, and he slowed down just a bit, looking down into her anxious face.

"The fort is under attack. Father told me to get you and Arthur to safety."

Her heart sank. Ectorius had been right in his concerns after all.

"Where is mama?"

His expression, if possible, darkened even further. "I don't know. Just -- whatever happens, hold on to my hand, all right?"

She whimpered quietly but nodded nonetheless. They had come to the kitchens and were moving towards the door where Lucia was relieved to see Arthur waiting for them, a dagger in his still childish hands. "Let's go." Cai said and her brother inclined his head grimly, waiting for the young knight to head through first. Lucia did not at all like this side of either of the two boys -- this hardened warrior's facade that hid any sign of the kind-hearted people she knew them to be. There was no time to ruminate over it any further, however, as Cai ushered the two siblings out into the chaotic night.

They ran through the fire-illuminated streets, staying as close together as they possibly could. The entire city was being destroyed, if not by its attackers then by the flames that they brought with them. For Lucia, it all passed by in a blur of jagged motion and fear. They managed to sneak by mostly unseen, knowing the alleyways like the back of their own hands; but once, when one of the blue men found them, Cai had to put the sword he had carried with him all the way to use and kill the man before he could harm them. Arthur was too shocked to react, but Lucia jumped back in freight, slapping her hand over her mouth and stifling her own scream at the sight of the blood spurting out of the newly inflicted wound. She was shaking like a leaf by the time Cai scooped her up into his arms and continued onwards.

_Nearly there_, Arthur told himself, although he was ashamed to even think as much, _nearly there and we'll be safe. _

How wrong he was.

When they had almost reached the southern gate, the two siblings heard a familiar voice -- that of their mother. All three of them swiveled around to see where she was, but had some trouble locating her at first.

There! In the portal of one of the houses -- what _was_ she doing there? -- coming towards them. She could still get out, was trying to get out, almost there -- "Mother!" they chorused, seeing the burning timber starting to crack under its own weight, sensing the imminent danger. Cai remained silent, as helpless as they were, unable to save the lady while the children he had sworn to protect were still at risk. She was almost out -- almost --

A nearby hay cart was lit and shoved into the entrance of the house, blocking Igerna's escape. Her cry of "Artorius!" could just be heard over the roaring of the collapsing house.

Lucia did not know if she had called for her son or for her husband.

"NO! Mother!" She buried her face into Cai's neck, weeping brokenly against the dark hair, but soon looked up again as Cai's call for Arthur reverberated through his chest.

"Arthur, come back here! Arthur!"

The youngest of the Artorii looked up to see her brother sprinting away to goodness knows where, no doubt having some misguided notion of heroism, and a new wave of despair hit her. Cai, meanwhile, was moving again, more urgent than ever to get out of the crumbling settlement, his hand pressed against the back of her head and stroking her hair. "Scout, Lucia, it's all right -- I'll get you out of here, I promise -- it's all right --" he was babbling, she realized, and would have been amused by it in any other situation than this. He too could not be wholly immune to the sheer death and destruction around them, even if he had ridden with the knights before. This was too much for either of them; to see their home razed to the ground, to lose people they loved... somewhere in the back of her mind Lucia vaguely wondered where Ectorius and Aelia were.

His collapse, when it came, was as sudden as everything else had been that night. He tumbled over with a yelp of pain, Lucia going down with him, falling into the mud of the street. For the briefest of moments Lucia was dazed, not really certain what happened, but then Cai's agonized cry ripped through her awareness and she realized they had both fallen, and he was clutching his leg, and there was blood, and oh Gods, she had to do something, help him --

She scrambled out from underneath him, grasping his flailing hand as it groped for something to hold on to -- she had promised not to let go, hadn't she? -- her heart skipping a beat as his hazed gray eyes focused on her. "Run, Scout," he rasped, but she shook her head adamantly. "No, not without you, I can't --" It was then that she heard it, the voices speaking in a strange language, heard them even before the arms belonging to them grabbed hold of her and tried to take her away. She screamed, clinging to Cai's hand but unable to hold on, sobbing when one of the men kicked at him viciously, beating at her captor's back even as he carried her away, Cai still crying out for her in the distance.

The man said something to her in that strange language, but she didn't understand. She just wanted to go home, the _safe_ home she had known all of her life, not this desolate and terrifying battlefield. She wanted to play with Arthur, not have him run off without knowing where he was; to sneak into the kitchens with Cai for a snack, not to have him hurt and slowly dying while she could do nothing.

Never before had she seen death from this close by.

She caught the glimmer of steel in the distance and at first thought nothing of it, having seen it so many times before since all of this started, and besides, she was much too busy kicking and screaming her lungs out --

Excalibur.

Gasping, she strained to see over her captor's shoulder, recognizing the grand sword at last. Wielding it was her brother, her Arthur, barely able to carry it but running vehemently towards the fort from the knights' cemetery anyway.

"Arthur!" she yelled, trying to gain his attention. "ARTHUR!"

He looked around, puzzled, until their eyes met. Green locked with green for what seemed an eternity.

"Arth--"

And then all was black once more, the green of her brother's eyes forever burned into her memory.

--

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	6. Eternal whisperings, desolate shores

**DISCLAIMER: The story of King Arthur as portrayed in the 2004 Jerry Bruckheimer movie does not belong to me. I don't believe anyone can reasonably take credit for owning the myth, though.**

**Wow, it really has been a while, hasn't it? University life has been amazing but very, very busy indeed. Some free time has been spent on the devising of plotlines and the researching of the historical background for my story, though; blame living in York (modern day Eboracum) - where every other house seems to be haunted by ghosts of the past - for the sudden bout of interest. =) I'll update again as soon as I'm able. I have a lot planned for this story and, though it may seem like at it at times, am not about to abandon it.**

**Please read and review!**

**Music: Trevor Morris - A Queen's Loneliness (The Tudor's OST)**

_She drifted in and out of consciousness, never quite awake, never quite asleep, faintly aware of the sounds and smells around her... grass, fresh and green and undiminished... a cool well of water, stirring, rippling... was that the steady movement of a horse in gallop or a boat rocked by gentle waves? She did not know... time passed, the wheel turned... round and round in never ending circles... blue people running down a hill... mist, thick and silver, wrapping her in its damp cloak... a man and a little girl sitting on a stone ledge, his back turned towards her, the child patting the faceless figure on the cheeks... his name a shadow in her dreams... a cemetery filled with swords... dark curls and darker eyes... a hawk soaring through the sky... two clasped hands, one bearing a signet ring, resting on crimson cloth... a swirl of rain, cleansing, rejuvenating... a familiar yet wholly foreign figure crowned with the finest jewels staring back at her... the crescent of the moon omnipresent, blue on her brow, radiant between the stars... her name being called, far away, distantly, echoing through the haze of being... a red dragon conquering a white dragon... pendragon, the once and future king... and in the back of her mind the memory of her brother's green eyes burning into hers... Niniane... Niniane..._

Consciousness came slowly to Lucia, the world of dreams gradually drifting and passing away, her senses sharpening into the world of reality. The first thing she was aware of was that she was hungry; the second that she was wrapped in something warm and that she was moving -- or rather, the horse underneath her was. She shook her head as if to shed the last vestiges of sleep from herself, blinking, the sight around her coming into focus at last...

... and then, finally, she panicked.

It was unlike anything she had ever seen before and the unfamiliarity of it all disturbed her. Where were Arthur and Cai? Was mama taking them on another trip? What was going on?

Memories returned like a tidal wave of unpleasantness. Fire and smoke, screams and fear -- the fort had been under attack. People had been hurt. Mama was trapped, Arthur had ran and Cai, oh, Cai... the realisation seemed to force the breath from her lungs, leaving her gasping, squirming, the sudden urge to flee overwhelming her.

"Hold still, girl."

She felt - felt? - a voice rumble behind her and turned around, looking up into the gruff face of a stranger. "Who are you?" she squeaked, stilling her previously frantic movements. The man behind looked very severe; his hair was gray like that of the man who sold apples at the fort, but his eyes were far less warm, a much icier blue than the merchant's had ever been. When her captor didn't answer, Lucia grew frightened but somehow summed up the courage to demand of him where he was taking her, trying to imbue as much indignation and authority as she could into her childish voice. She had seen her mother do it many times, after all.

It only succeeded in making the man laugh.

"Castle Din Talgwn," he said, but that made little sense to her at all. "Now hold still, or I will make you walk all the way up there." Slumping in defeat, the young girl returned her gaze to the weathered cliff in the distance. Even to her it was not hard to put two and two together and figure out that the stone and wooden keep on top of it must be the castle the man spoke of, but who lived in such a desolate place, and why were they going there? The wind whipping at the banners on the high towers was as cold as the eyes of the mystery man currently holding her. Behind them and to their sides she could see wild-looking men on sturdy horses, their skins tinged a faint blue, all of them armed to the teeth. She was trapped.

All at once, she was weeping, shaking with quiet misery as an empty sort of ache pulled at her chest. "I want to go home," she hiccuped, "I want my mama." To her surprise, she felt the man's arm tighten around her almost imperceptibly, his whole demeanour softening. "You can't," he said quietly, "Best not dwell on it, child. The King and Queen will take care of you."

_King? _That only distraught her further. The only kings she had ever heard of were those tyrants in the early days of the empire, the ones her tutor had told her about. He had also told her she should be glad that they now had an emperor, who was just and wise, and a senate to help him in ruling the lands. Though she had never really understood how an emperor would be any different than a king, kings were still bad and the notion of having to meet one scared her.

How had things gone so wrong? How had a fairly regular day turned into something so terrible, such a nightmare? It seemed so long ago now that she and Arthur had chased each other down the slopes of Badon Hill, and yet it could not be much more than a day... could it? She hated being in the dark, despised not knowing what going on; this new sensation of overwhelming helplessness was terrible, the world suddenly much too big. The entire thing was so dreadful it seemed almost surreal.

Lip quivering with the last of her sobs, she twisted her little fingers into the horse's dark manes. A glint of blue and white caught her eye around her wrist. Almost automatically, she pushed the sleeve of her soiled holiday gown back, revealing a simple bracelet of blue ribbons and white beads. She pressed her eyes shut. It had been a gift from Cai, a trinket he had brought back from one of the missions, nothing of particular value; but it was precious to her, more dear than any of her fancy toys could ever be.

Lucia sighed, opening her eyes again to look at the looming fortress. She found that if she held her breath and listened hard enough, she could almost hear Cai's voice on the howling wind.

_Don't cry, Scout. I'm all right._

Almost.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"Open the gate!"

The cry went up from the watchtower as soon as the troupe neared the causeway. They were never once questioned, never once stopped, the hooves of the horse clattering on the cobblestones, echoing from the walls. Once inside, the settlement was much like Cilurnum had been, bustling with the activity of a crowded city. People stepped aside for the group riding into the courtyard, many falling suddenly silent, gawking, some even bowing their heads. It all seemed very odd to Lucia. Though in many ways similar to her old home, this place was harsher somehow, the entire atmosphere dismal and lacking colour. Those who stared at her did so with an unabashed curiosity and barely disguised mistrust; there was little friendliness here, especially towards strangers.

The man with the eyes of ice drew his steed to a stop before a set of ornate doors at the end of the inner square, gesturing for his men to do the same. As if by some previous arrangement, the doors swung open the moment they halted, revealing a stunning woman dressed in emerald green. All those around swooped into low bows as she stepped forward, every inch of her radiating regality. She reminded Lucia of her mother; their looks and stature were very alike, but as with everything else in this strange area, she seemed more austere, her features sharper than Igerna's. The strength and formidability Uter's lady had possessed paled in comparison to this daunting creature.

She spoke in a language Lucia did not recognise, the strange enunciation and emphasises unexpectedly lyrical. It appeared that the man who was still holding her was called Taliesin - that much she _could_ discern - and that the two of them were now half-conversing, half-arguing. He must have said something about Lucia because the lady turned her penetrating stare on the girl, the vaguest hint of recognition mixed with incredulity in her eyes.

Her eyes! Lucia gasped. They were _her_ eyes. Arthur's eyes; her mother's eyes! Who was this woman? Was she the Queen her warden had mentioned earlier? Why did she --

Her train of thought was interrupted abruptly as one of the soldiers lifted her from the horse. She knew better than to struggle by now and, frankly, was too stunned to bother. Keeping quiet, she fiddled with the loose ends of her bracelet, warily watching the lady approach. Now that she was closer, Lucia could see she had freckles on her cheekbones much like she herself did. The slight smile she offered her made her seem much more sympathetic and she knelt down to be on eye level with the girl.

"Lucia," she said, her Latin thickly accented and halting, as if she hadn't used it in a while, "My name is Morgause. I am Queen of this land; Lothian, it is called." She paused, faltering slightly as she looked to be pondering what to say next.

"I am also your aunt."

----

Interesting fact: Din Talgwn is (very loosely) based on what is now Tantallon Castle in East Lothian, Scotland. Though I couldn't find evidence specifically of Roman settlements at the location, there _was_ a possible earlier version of the current 14th century castle; my fortress (name included) is derived from this (the location more than anything) and further draws from such places as Tintagel in Cornwall (although that spot will be visited in BEGM later) and Dunluce Castle in Northern Ireland.

Happy Valentine's. Please read & review!


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